Review: The noise in Steven Tyler’s head

DOES THE NOISE IN MY HEAD BOTHER YOU?
By Steven Tyler with David Dalton
Ecco, 400 pp., $27.99

Reviewed by Bob Ruggerio

The headline on a recent Rolling Stone cover story summed it up nicely: “Steven Tyler — From Bad Boy to America’s Sweetheart.”

And while millions of American Idol watchers have taken a strong liking to the flamboyant, kooky, and non-sequitur spouting Aerosmith frontman — who always has a positive word and a hug for contestants — he bears little resemblance to the cocaine-snorting, booze-chugging, groupie-banging “Demon of Screamin’” who leaps forth from the pages of this deliciously debauched memoir.

Like recent rock lit tomes by Eric Clapton, Keith Richards, and Sammy Hagar, Steven Tyler figured that he might as well be honest and put it all out there on the page. And given how much ink has already been spilled about his live-out-loud behavior — onstage and off — the number of crazy stories in Does the Noise in My Head Bother You? still amazes.

Even Tyler himself realizes how he’s viewed. Cue to Tyler speaking in the third person.

“I didn’t become Steven Tyler all at once. I made him up, bit by bit,” he writes. “And by now, [he’s] pretty much a fictional character anyway. “I have absolutely no control over the little (bleep).”

Steven Tyler began life in Yonkers, New York as Steven Tallarico, catching the music bug early by laying underneath the piano while his classically-trained father practiced three to four hours a day. Eventually, all that Chopin and Bach would inspire the melody and instrumentation to “Dream On.”)

Buoyed by the sounds of the Rolling Stones, the Yardbirds and the Kinks, Tyler played in several groups before co-forming Aerosmith in 1970. And while critics derided him as a Mick Jagger wannabe, Tyler reveals here that his real musical and performing hero was actually Janis Joplin.

Constant gigging in the northeast and opening for popular bands helped hone Aerosmith’s hard rock sound and party-on lyrics, resulting in classic records like Toys in the Attic, Rocks, and Draw the Line. Those were the early days doing endless shows at high schools and dive bars before success catapulted them onto larger stages… and into greater temptation for self-destruction.

In fact, Tyler seems to work just as hard at partying and his, um, social life as his music. The constant stories of partying and illicit-substance indulging (most of them not retellable in a Hearst family newspaper) sometimes overtake the book, running together until they lose any real impact.

Still, who but Tyler could give you the best advice on how to make a hotel television set explode on impact in a pool many floors below? (Hint: Keep it plugged in… but be sure no one is swimming at the time.) Readers also learn that the song “Walk This Way” was inspired by a line of dialogue from Marty Feldman’s google-eyed Igor character in Young Frankenstein.

There’s plenty about the roller coaster career of Aerosmith, now in its fifth decade as perhaps the classic American hard rock band. Tyler is also blunt about his love/hate relationship with Joe Perry, the other half of the “Toxic Twins.”

“My whole life I’d been searching for a mutant twin. I wanted a brother,” Tyler recalls upon meeting the axe-slinger as a teen. “And right off, there was the teeth-grinding, competitive antagonism… nobody can make me as crazy as Joe.” That craziness, Tyler adds, has included periods of homicidal hostility, backstabbing jealousy and resentment.

Perry has gone on record with what little he thinks of Tyler’s participation in American Idol (a greater sin in many fan’s eyes than, say, drug relapsing). And indeed the rest of the band made loud noises about replacing its distinctive frontman, especially after Tyler’s stint — yet another stint — in rehab last year.

However, the group is currently working on new material as Tyler’s newfound celebrity is sending sales of the band’s older music through the roof.

And yes, strewn thought the book’s structure — which, like Tyler’s mind, ping pongs all over the place — are dozens of patented “Tylerisms” that can only come from his well-endowed motor-mouth. “God and sound and sex and the electric world grid — it’s all connected!” Tyler sums up. And yes, there’s an app for that.

Bob Ruggiero is a Houston-based freelance music journalist who has never thrown a television out of a hotel window, plugged in or not.